The coffee culture here is so interesting to me. Everyone, but everyone, drinks coffee in its many permutations and variations. You can even pick up "Pocket Coffee" at any grocery store or tobacconist, which is essentially a dark chocolate filled with espresso.
The thing is, it's like breathing. It's a function so obvious and basic that no one comments on it or thinks about it. We see things like a truck stopped (blocking traffic) so the driver can run into the local caffetteria to get a fix. Today a customer brought in two cups to the butchers'... and they downed it then and there with no perception that it (to our eyes) was -- quite funny! And I see this sort of thing all the time. Meet someone in the street? Let's go get a cup of coffee. Around 10:00 every morning, everyone flocks to get their fix, and the "bars" are packed with people at the tables (many outside now that spring is arriving!) or standing next to the barista. The teachers bring their coffee into the classroom -- or a student may run out to get some for them. Almost every time we've been to the doctor's, Cinzia (the nurse? assistant?) has run out or been on her way in bearing coffee for herself and the doctor.
When I was in Vienna (admittedly a long, long time ago!), where they also really love their coffee, I remember it as more of an event. The morning coffee was a protracted affair, lovingly considered.
Here? Well, it's more like an absolute right or basic need. The prices are great (1.10 for a wonderful cappuccino in a china cup with saucer, etc.) because no Italian would countenance a high price -- it would be like charging for oxygen, you know? Even at the airport, you can get a great cup of java for less than $2. Again, with china cups, saucers, and metal spoons.
Our gym? You know, where people go to get/stay fit? Top of the menu, well above the protein shakes, etc. that you'd expect: a full range of coffee styles and preparations. Cappuccino: 1 euro.
And me?
I'm off to get some coffee.
Alexandra
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Organ Grinding
Last week I noticed a small organ (maybe three feet high, two and a half feet wide, and a foot and a half deep) that appeared to be from Roman times. It was foot pumped and it had two pumping pedals. So naturally I went over to play it, but it was awfully hard to play, since only one of the pedals worked. This week when I got to my lesson, my teacher was with another student, so I told him I'd be right back. I ran over to the house and I got my screwdriver and a few screws that might have worked, but I couldn't find the wood screws; I just did the Italian thing and took one from my bedroom door handle, and off I went. 
After my lesson, I asked him if I could try to fix the organ because the pedal was broken. He said, "Yeah, sure, whatever." So I flipped the organ onto its side, dug in, and saw that the bellows was moved by a rope attached to a pulley attached to the pedal. The problem with it was the fact that the bracket which attached the rope to the pedal wasn't actually attached to the pedal properly: only one of the two necessary screws remained.
I discovered it was a soft wood when the first screw went in and I tried to use the pedal: the screw tore off a chunk of wood. Thus I knew this wouldn't work. So I then noted that the rope was actually two ropes that had been tied together in the middle. I started to untie it, and my teacher said, "Let me just show you how to lock up." So he did, and then promptly left me alone in the building.When I had finished re-tying the knot (this time tighter), I put the organ back upright, and started to play. After a few minutes, I decided to lock up the music school and go home.
Love,
Jeremy
p.s. I remembered to replace the screw in my bedroom door handle.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Handling Panhandlers (repost from Facebook)
I have long wondered how to deal with panhandlers in a compassionate, helpful way. We don't have many here in Todi, but there are a few whom I see often.
After discussing it with one of my friends, we decided on an action plan. While I usually tell them to go talk to the priests (reasoning that they're in a better position to point them to help than I am), I have a new strategy: offer them work.
This morning I put the strategy into action. There was a panhandler at our local grocery store whom I see often. I asked if he wanted work, and he replied affirmatively. I told him to clean up the parking lot (which was unfortunately trashed up), and I would pay him when I got out of the store.
He immediately set to work: the first action was to hide from my view. I kept an eye on him, and he didn't pick up a single thing.
I mentioned the interaction to the checkout cashier (and the people behind heard as well), and she confirmed that she's offered him a sandwich in the past, which has been refused.
Anyway, in this case I was able to move on with a clear conscience: I had offered him useful work which was refused. I have no obligation to give him money just because he's a living, breathing human being -- even out of compassion -- if he himself refuses the help offered.
And I can rest secure in the knowledge that I can identify those who really need the help as opposed to those who simply want a handout.
Love,
Alexandra
After discussing it with one of my friends, we decided on an action plan. While I usually tell them to go talk to the priests (reasoning that they're in a better position to point them to help than I am), I have a new strategy: offer them work.
This morning I put the strategy into action. There was a panhandler at our local grocery store whom I see often. I asked if he wanted work, and he replied affirmatively. I told him to clean up the parking lot (which was unfortunately trashed up), and I would pay him when I got out of the store.
He immediately set to work: the first action was to hide from my view. I kept an eye on him, and he didn't pick up a single thing.
I mentioned the interaction to the checkout cashier (and the people behind heard as well), and she confirmed that she's offered him a sandwich in the past, which has been refused.
Anyway, in this case I was able to move on with a clear conscience: I had offered him useful work which was refused. I have no obligation to give him money just because he's a living, breathing human being -- even out of compassion -- if he himself refuses the help offered.
And I can rest secure in the knowledge that I can identify those who really need the help as opposed to those who simply want a handout.
Love,
Alexandra
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Via Crucis
This year, the parish is hosting weekly Stations of the Cross at a church I'd never even noticed! The Post Office sits in the Piazza Garibaldi, and has a lovely fresco in it. It seems to be at the edge of the piazza, overlooking the valley. However, there is a small, unassuming door to the right which leads into the Chiesa del Monte. And this is where the Stations are held this year.
Never one to resist the opportunity to see a new church, it was obviously the thing to do last Friday. I showed up at 4:15 (Don Andrea had told me 4:00 and the bulletin said 4:30), and there were a few older women milling around, so I figured I was in the right place.
Another lady came up, asked if the church was closed, and (on being told that it was), dashed back to her house to get her key! She arrived back shortly, and opened up. What a sight!
The church is about 12 feet wide, and maybe 24 feet deep; if you think I'm exaggerating, I will tell you that two candelabra bulbs lit the space (which I got to replace by standing on some rickety wicker chairs, by virtue of the fact that I was the tallest present). The corpus used in the procession was on its bier in the middle of the church, taking up much of the space, and the altar likewise took a big chunk. The walls were frescoed in the mid-1800s, so they are in great shape, and so lovely!
There were about 25 of us shoehorned into the remaining space, and we all had a good time pirouetting to venerate the individual stations as they came up...no need to move other than a simple rotation...
Next week, I'm going to get the whole family to go, just so see whether we can all fit in!
Love,
Alexandra
Never one to resist the opportunity to see a new church, it was obviously the thing to do last Friday. I showed up at 4:15 (Don Andrea had told me 4:00 and the bulletin said 4:30), and there were a few older women milling around, so I figured I was in the right place.
Another lady came up, asked if the church was closed, and (on being told that it was), dashed back to her house to get her key! She arrived back shortly, and opened up. What a sight!
The church is about 12 feet wide, and maybe 24 feet deep; if you think I'm exaggerating, I will tell you that two candelabra bulbs lit the space (which I got to replace by standing on some rickety wicker chairs, by virtue of the fact that I was the tallest present). The corpus used in the procession was on its bier in the middle of the church, taking up much of the space, and the altar likewise took a big chunk. The walls were frescoed in the mid-1800s, so they are in great shape, and so lovely!
There were about 25 of us shoehorned into the remaining space, and we all had a good time pirouetting to venerate the individual stations as they came up...no need to move other than a simple rotation...
Next week, I'm going to get the whole family to go, just so see whether we can all fit in!
Love,
Alexandra
Todi to Host Live Crucifixion
You already know about the live Nativity. Well, Todi's going one better, and on Good Friday will supplement its usual procession with the life-size corpus from San Filippo di Benizi from the Porta Romana to the Duomo with a detour to the Nicchioni, where they will have a staged crucifixion! I don't know yet who has volunteered to be one of the three, but I do know who's going to be our Blessed Mother: Eleanor!
And here's how she was chosen:
Don Riccardo wanted someone virginal, and thought that was more important than the concept of a 17-year-old young woman mourning "her" 33-year-old "son". Hmmm. The math on that's a bit odd.
When I asked about our Madonna for the live Nativity, I was told that she was divorced and clearly not virginal. Others I suggested were sloughed off as "too old" (42 or 43?). So, it's Eleanor.
We're all going to be in costumes. I have the fabric now, and I have to check in with the dressmaker tomorrow. Rumor has it that she'll do each costume for 15 euros, which I call a serious bargain. Failing that, I'll be able to do them with ... my new sewing machine (!!!!!), courtesy of my darling parents and wonderful husband!
Love,
Alexandra
And here's how she was chosen:
Don Riccardo wanted someone virginal, and thought that was more important than the concept of a 17-year-old young woman mourning "her" 33-year-old "son". Hmmm. The math on that's a bit odd.
When I asked about our Madonna for the live Nativity, I was told that she was divorced and clearly not virginal. Others I suggested were sloughed off as "too old" (42 or 43?). So, it's Eleanor.
We're all going to be in costumes. I have the fabric now, and I have to check in with the dressmaker tomorrow. Rumor has it that she'll do each costume for 15 euros, which I call a serious bargain. Failing that, I'll be able to do them with ... my new sewing machine (!!!!!), courtesy of my darling parents and wonderful husband!
Love,
Alexandra
Double Blessings
 |
| Note the nuns in their uniforms as well! |
 |
| The bishop emerging from the ambulance |
Love,
Alexandra
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Simpler Times
I just finished washing the dishes after dinner. Why was I washing the dishes? Because two children are out camping with the Scouts, one fell asleep before dinner, one is out on the town, and one needed to be in bed and out of sight after a rough afternoon of homework.
While I washed dishes I reflected on how commonplace our lifestyle seems to us right now, and how it might not seem that way to everyone else. You see, I was washing all the dishes by hand in a one-basin sink because we do not have a dishwasher, unless you count 5 children. That got me thinking on everything else we took for granted back in Atlanta.
In Italy, we have:
* no dishwasher
* no microwave
* no toaster
* no deep freezer
* a refrigerator so small it fits under the counter
* a three-burner gas stove we have to light by hand
* no clothes dryer
* one tiny car, which seats 4 and has a top speed of 50 mph
* parking a block away for that car
* 1000 sq ft for 7 people
* no air conditioning
* 4 windows, one for each room
* a "yard" that is a 3-ft by 20-ft balcony
* metered electric power so small that we cannot run the washing machine and the oven at the same time
And do you know what? It is enough.
Lest you think we are serious throwbacks, here are some items from the other end of the spectrum:
* 6 cell phones
* 5 laptops
* 3 iPads
Michael
While I washed dishes I reflected on how commonplace our lifestyle seems to us right now, and how it might not seem that way to everyone else. You see, I was washing all the dishes by hand in a one-basin sink because we do not have a dishwasher, unless you count 5 children. That got me thinking on everything else we took for granted back in Atlanta.
In Italy, we have:
* no dishwasher
* no microwave
* no toaster
* no deep freezer
* a refrigerator so small it fits under the counter
* a three-burner gas stove we have to light by hand
* no clothes dryer
* one tiny car, which seats 4 and has a top speed of 50 mph
* parking a block away for that car
* 1000 sq ft for 7 people
* no air conditioning
* 4 windows, one for each room
* a "yard" that is a 3-ft by 20-ft balcony
* metered electric power so small that we cannot run the washing machine and the oven at the same time
And do you know what? It is enough.
Lest you think we are serious throwbacks, here are some items from the other end of the spectrum:
* 6 cell phones
* 5 laptops
* 3 iPads
Michael
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)